


Chain Reaction of Sexual Tension

by ChasingRabbits



Series: A Couple of Kooks [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, POV Multiple, Parenthood, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Toddlers, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Uncle Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingRabbits/pseuds/ChasingRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, it's not like they shouldn't have seen this coming. After all, what else would Led Zeppelin have meant by 'If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break'?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain Reaction of Sexual Tension

This is fucking maddening.

At first, it was liberating, admitting to himself something he thinks he’s known for his whole life.  He lets his gaze linger on the handsome barista at Starbucks, even winks at a guy while he’s meandering around West Hollywood. He no longer feels guilty about looking for ‘ _bisexual mmf threesome_ ’ while browsing porn, and god it’s fucking amazing to come without the looming dread of _fuck do I like guys_ hanging over his head.

He likes guys, a lot. Maybe even as much as he likes girls.

More to the point, he thinks he might like his best friend, and therein lies the maddening part. Dean Winchester, twenty-five, Aquarius and high school drop-out, thinks he may have had feelings for his best friend long, long ago.  Looking at Cas now, still in his pajamas, reading over a stack of papers in his lap, glasses far down on the end of his nose, Dean gets that itch deep in the center of his chest—that itch you can only scratch by grabbing that person by the front of the shirt and smashing your mouths together.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

“Daddy,” Emma comes up beside him and tugs at his sweats, jolting him out of his thoughts. The coffee finished brewing a few minutes ago, didn’t it? Emma, not one for being ignored, tugs on his sweats again, harder this time.  

“Whoa, hey sweetheart,” Dean looks down at her. “Let’s not tug down daddy’s pants. What’s up?”

She holds up a piece of paper, scribbled with glitter crayons in three vague shapes. Probably. Dean’s gotta be honest, he doesn’t know how the hell to decipher this kid’s art.

“What’s goin’ on in this picture, baby?” he asks.

She reaches for it again, and Dean hands it to her. She points to the smudge of green and says, “You, daddy.”

“Fair enough,” Dean nods. “I have put on a little weight.”

Cas snorts from his place at the table.

Emma points at the blue smudge and dictates, “And pahsicle”

“Another striking likeness,” Dean says. “Where’s Emma?”

Emma points to the orange scribble and says, “Tha’s me!”

“First family portrait,” Dean whistles. “Good job, baby. That’s going up on the fridge.”

“The highest of honors,” Castiel agrees as Dean clicks a magnet into place. Dean turns and watches as Cas sets his work aside so he can pull Emma into his lap. He kisses her on the top of her head and snuggles her close.

She’s a juggernaut of a kid already, tall and heavy and sturdy as hell.  Not even two years old and she’s already built solid, just like her dad. She’s got all her teeth, which makes it all the cuter when she turns on that great big smile. Her hair’s also long enough now for Cas to gather and tie into two teeny tiny pigtails at the base of her skull.

Cas is much better with hair than Dean is, which you wouldn’t expect out of some weird, dorky little guy with a chronic case of bedhead.

“Are you ready to see Uncle Sam?” Cas bounces her on his knee, and she shrieks with laughter.

Jesus, why doesn’t Mola Ram just rip out his fucking heart right here?

“What time are they going to be here?” asks Cas, and Dean shrugs. Sam is supposed to text when he leaves Palo Alto, but Dean is still holding out hope that Sam will say ‘oh sorry can’t make it’. Apparently turning twenty-one and finishing your third year at Stanford in one month turns you into a self-righteous twatbagel, and self-righteous twatbagels tend to be pretty goddamned judgey.

“Dean,” Cas warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean sighs and  pours himself a piping hot cup of coffee. He turns and leans back on the counter, staring pensively out the kitchen window at the building behind theirs.

Then he notices Cas looking at him, and Dean flushes.

“What?”

Cas shrugs, “You look handsome this morning, that’s all.”

Dean looks down at his sweats and his faded Metallica t-shirt and then back up at Cas. He’s back to working, chin perched atop Emma’s head and eyes flitting back over the pages in front of him.

See, this is the kind of shit that’s making his life a living hell. He’s not handsome right now, he looks like he just rolled out of bed at eleven in the morning because that’s exactly what he did. His hair is squashed in this way and that, he probably still has pillow marks on his face and bags under his eyes.

“I think I’m gonna sit out on the steps,” Dean clears his throat.

Emma replies with a pretty impressive, “I come wityou,” and crawls off of Cas’ lap to bounce over to Dean.

“Hell yeah, let’s go sit outside while daddy drinks his go-go juice,” Dean strokes a hand over her hair.

“Go-go juice,” Emma giggles.

“Like that?” Dean smiles. “At least someone thinks I’m funny.”

“Someone has to,” Cas comes back. He looks up over the tops of his glasses and gives Dean a smile.

Sam texts while Dean and Emma are out on the steps in front of their building.

_‘Left about an hour ago. Should be there in time for dinner with Jess’ folks. See you guys after?’_

Dean switches on his camera, “Hey baby, funny face time.”

He has her well-trained already. In an instant she sticks out her tongue, the only funny face she really knows how to make as of yet. Dean holds his arm out and gets them both in the frame. The sight of Dean’s funny face makes Emma squeal with delight, and he gets another picture of them both laughing.

“All right, let’s show Uncle Sammy what he’s in for, huh?”

“Untle Sammy,” says Emma, and then she blows a raspberry. Dean may laugh a little too loudly at that, but fuck it, this kid’s timing is golden.

Dean sends Sam the picture and gets back a, _‘Very nice’_ almost right away.

_‘get on our level, nerds’_

Sam accepts the challenge, and soon Dean receives a picture of Sam and Jess, who is driving, pulling possibly the most unattractive faces known to humankind.

 _‘well played’_ Dean types back.  

The day goes by as Saturdays usually do nowadays. The three of them get dressed at a  
snail’s pace and finally make their  
way to the grocery store. Cas is a list-keeper, thank god, because if they left the shopping up to Dean they’d never eat anything but potato chips and dry handfuls of Cocoa Puffs.

“All right,” Cas adjusts his glasses on his face, peering over the list on his phone  
as Dean secures Emma in the shopping cart.  “I think if you take the middle aisles and I get the produce and meat, we should be done quickly.”

“You are the expert meat handler,” Dean agrees.

“ _Wow_ ,” Cas shakes his head.

“Sorry, man, you can’t set me up like that,” Dean chuckles, and then outright belly  
laughs when Castiel rolls his eyes.  

It’s weird—Dean never thought this domestic shit would ever be his style. Mom and dad were pretty shit with it, though not for a lack of trying on mom’s part. He never wanted that for himself, told himself he would be better off alone than having a wife that he resented coming home to and a couple of kids who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about him.

He doesn’t think life would be like that with Cas, though. Hell, it’s not like that with Cas right now. Sure, it’s kind of strange, knowing that he wants to bone the guy, but maybe it wouldn’t end up being so bad.

What if it was actually good?

Emma drops the box of Froot Loops in her hands. It smacks to the floor, and Emma gives an exaggerated, “Uh-oh.”

Dean stoops to grab the box just in time to see Cas come back with his haul.

“Are you all right?” he asks, and Dean clears his throat.

“Great,” he nods. “I’m… great.”

Cas narrows his eyes, trying to pinpoint what the hell is going on in Dean’s head. Hey, if Dean knew, he’d gladly lay it all out there.

Cas then takes a step closer and leans in, “Did you smoke the emergency stash?”

“What? No, dude,” Dean shakes his head. “We still have that?”

“It’s called an emergency stash,” Cas says. “We haven’t had an emergency since we replenished it, why wouldn’t we still have it?”

“Okay, okay,” Dean hushes him as Emma watches the exchange, sucking on her three middle fingers.

“Emma, honey,” Cas grabs her hand and extracts it gently from her mouth. “Clean hands, we only eat clean hands.”

He grabs a bottle of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and rubs a tiny dot over her hands.

“Real nice, Cas,” Dean sighs. “All that’s missing is the daddy fanny pack and you’d officially be the gayest man in the entirety of West Hollywood.”

“Now, that is a gross exaggeration,” Cas returns without looking at Dean. Emma reaches for Cas and begs, “Up, papa.”

Cas complies and lifts her out of the cart and onto his shoulders in one flawless move.

“What do you think?” Cas asks. “It’s no fanny pack, but I’ve always wanted a stole.”

Emma giggles and buries her chubby hands in Cas’ thick hair.

Fuck, Dean can’t help it.

Right there in the cereal aisle, he grabs Cas’ face in both of his hands and pulls him into a kiss. It lasts all of a couple seconds before he pulls back, cheeks  
burning and chest tight, but ultimately relieved.

Cas’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, his eyes wide behind his glasses, his hands still anchoring Emma by the ankles.

“Can we talk about this when we’re not in the middle of the grocery store?” Cas whispers.

Dean lets out a long breath, “Yeah… yeah, shit. Of course.”

It takes for-fucking-ever to get out of the grocery store, because that’s just how life is, isn’t it? Dean’s never tried to shop so quickly in his life, never been so  
impatient waiting in line at the register. Even Emma’s looking at him like he just escaped the booby hatch.

As soon as they’re belted up in the car, groceries stowed in the trunk and Emma strapped into her car seat, Dean white-knuckles the steering wheel of the Impala and takes a few steadying breaths.

He’s kissed Cas twice now, fucking _moron_.

“Dean?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean blurts out. “I’m just… There’s a whole fuckload of I don’t know what going on.”

“Would you like me to drive?”

Dean shakes his head and starts up the car, “I’m fine.”

“I’ll say,” Cas returns with a smile, and fuck. What the fucking fuck is this flush creeping up on his cheeks?

Then Cas’ phone starts ringing in his pocket and jolts Dean back into the real world. He starts driving automatically, glancing back at Emma as he backs out of the parking space. She’s sucking on her fingers again.

“—what are you talking about?”

Uh-oh. That look on Cas’ face has Naomi written all over it.

“Shit,” Cas sighs. “It’ll take me a few minutes, but yeah. I’ll come in and help out.”

“ _What_?” Dean demands, and nearly rear ends the Explorer in front of them.

“I’ll be there in a little bit,” Cas says, “— _okay_ —you are aware that verbal abuse will not make me move any faster, right?”

He hangs up the phone and thunks his skull back against the headrest. “I’m going to kill Alfie,” he mutters.

“What the fuck is going on?” asks Dean.

“He lost a sizeable chunk of content,” Cas rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Most of which was mine. And since we’re going to production on this issue this week, you can imagine that poses a problem.”

Dean’s heart hammers against his ribs so hard that it hurts.

“Fuck that,” Dean shakes his head. “ _I’m_ gonna kill Alfie.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas mutters, and Dean’s chest squeezes.

Damn it all to hell.

“No, man,” he sighs. “Your job’s important, keeps us afloat. It’s not like we can’t talk later.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Cas replies very frankly, and suddenly Dean feels the air squeeze out of his lungs and the color drain from his face. Holy shit.

There’s at least a seventy percent chance that this isn’t happening right now.

The moment they get home, Dean unloads the groceries while Cas puts Emma down for a nap. They meet in the kitchen just as Dean slides the last item, a box of Triscuts, into place in the cupboard. Cas just looks at him for a few moments, and Dean does the same.

He’s got his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He adjusts the strap and says, “I need the keys.”

“Oh,” Dean shakes his head. “Right.” He fishes the keys out of his pocket and presses them into Cas’ palm. Cas doesn’t let go, though. He wraps his hand around Dean’s and pulls him into a kiss.

Dean lets out a soft, shaky breath. He vaguely registers the keys dropping onto the kitchen floor as he wraps his arms around Cas’ neck and holds him close. Their stubble scratches together like Velcro, and there’s no squish to Cas’ chest, but it’s _Cas_ and anything feels right with Cas.

Another buzz from Cas’ pocket and they pull apart.

“I have to go,” Cas rests their foreheads together. “We’ll talk when I get home, okay?”

Dean nods, and unabashedly basks in the last quick kiss Cas gives him before he stoops to grab the keys and dashes out the door.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes the second he’s alone. He’s got the makings of a raging hard-on in his jeans and no one but his right hand to take care of it for him. So, he locks himself in the bathroom to take care of it before he has to go kid wrangling.

* * *

Alfie is a very sweet kid, just a little… dumb isn’t the right word.

_Inexperienced_. 

Fortunately, Cas had a lot of the work backed up on his computer. Unfortunately, some of Hester’s and Amy’s stuff was lost too, and that’s what Castiel had to work through. He’s getting paid overtime and everything, but what's an extra couple hours of money up against Dean?

Dean kissing him and then letting Castiel kiss him back. For crying out loud, it's a wonder Castiel can concentrate at all, all things considered.

Naomi does not appreciate nearly as much as she should. Everything is deadlines and ‘ _I need this done yesterday_ ’. He can only work so fast, and between the two of them they’re powering through it relatively quickly.

Relative, being the operative word, as it’s verging on dusk when he and Naomi finally leave.

Castiel knows he’s not supposed to speed in the Impala—apparently Dean only trusts himself to drive recklessly—but, to be perfectly honest, he’s freaking the hell out. This afternoon was not an accident. Dean meant to kiss him, and he did it right in the middle of a grocery store.

And he let Castiel kiss him in the kitchen.

Castiel may run a few red lights in his haste to get home and tell Dean everything, to let him know just how much he loves him and how much he would do for him, and how good life could be if it was just them together with their kid and their dog. A life full of plural pronouns and falling asleep next to the guy who’s made his heart stammer for much too long.

He doesn’t even bother getting his bag out of the car, just parks and dashes up to the apartment as quickly as he can.

Dean is in the kitchen again, this time boiling up some mac ’n cheese. He turns when he hears Emma declare, “Pahsicle home!”

Cas scoops her up off the floor and gives her a great big kiss on the cheek. As much as he hates to admit it, his and Dean's talk is going to have to wait. Emma doesn’t need to hear any of it, even if she wouldn’t understand what they were saying.

He balances Emma on his hip and gives Dean a smile, “Hello.”  

“Hey,” Dean clears his throat. “I didn’t know when you were gonna be back. I know you don’t like the boxed stuff, and I already fed her, so—“

Castiel cuts him off with a kiss. Nothing fancy, just a little peck, as two people in a relationship might exchange in greeting.

Not that they’re in a relationship.

The action leaves Castiel wanting more and Emma looking entirely perplexed. He sets her down and says, “Why don’t you go get your princess books to show to Uncle Sam?”

Emma’s face lights up at the mention of princess books, and she dashes as fast as an almost-two-year-old can. Dean waits until Emma is out of the room to pounce on Cas again. This is definitely more frantic, something that’s been building all afternoon and evening, and Cas lets himself fall headfirst into it.

Yeah, the conversation can wait, Cas decides, and pushes Dean against the refrigerator. It’s mind-numbingly erotic how compliant Dean is, how his jaw drops open to accommodate Cas’ tongue, how he curls into and molds to every single one of Cas’ touches.

There’s a knock on the door that sends Cas leaping back and makes Dean shout, “ _FUCK!_ ” so loudly that the people below them bang on the ceiling.

“Dean?” he hears Sam’s voice from outside. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dean groans back and reaches down to adjust himself in his pants. Oh yes, Castiel could watch that all night.

Dean then gives a jerky nod, and Castiel cocks his head. Dean rolls his eyes and points at the front door and Castiel rolls his eyes and mouths, _‘You!’_ This leads Dean to gesture at the lump in his jeans and then sock him on the shoulder. Castiel pokes him back, which only comes right back to Dean smacking him again.

“Dean?” Sam calls just as Cas grabs Dean’s crotch. He’s still kind of hard, and Cas smiles.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean whispers, his face bright pink.

“Nothing,” Cas whispers back, leaning in close. “I just wanted to cop a feel.”

“You’re such a dick,” Dean’s voice shakes as Castiel’s lips ghost over his.

“I am, aren’t I?” Castiel smirks, and with a final squeeze backs off to answer the door.

So far, Jessica has only been introduced to Dean, Castiel, and Emma over Skype. It’s a marvel of the modern world that they can meet someone with three hundred miles separating you, but a picture on a computer can’t do justice to just how magnetic Jessica is.

If sunshine were to be embodied in a single adult human being, it would definitely be Jessica.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Jessica doesn’t bother with formality, just gives Castiel a great big hug. “You’re taller than I expected.”

“That’s what I get for hanging out with giants, I suppose,” Castiel smiles and then turns to give Sam a hug. Despite the fact that the Winchesters aren’t what you’d call ‘huggers’, they’ve adapted since Castiel first met them.

“Good to see you, man,” Sam smiles just as Dean emerges from the kitchen. His predicament cleared, he’s able to accept a hug from both Jessica and Sam. Emma pokes her head out of Dean’s room and lets out a shriek when she sees her uncle right there in her living room. She runs toward him at full speed and nearly knocks him over.

“Hey, Emma,” Sam laughs and picks her up with ease. Immediately, she buries her hands in Sam’s hair, longer than anything she’s ever seen on a boy before. She pets it as she would pet Archie, who at the moment is passed out on the couch.

“Pretty,” she decides, and wraps her arms around Sam’s neck.

“Wow, you are the friendliest li’l nugget on the planet, aren’t you?” Jessica beams. Emma buries her face in Sam’s neck and smiles.

“Hey, so we were thinking,” Sam adjusts Emma on his hip. “Would you guys wanna go get some ice cream or something?”

Emma’s eyes light up.

“Ice cream!” she exclaims, except she’s still a little rocky with her pronunciation and it comes out sounding like ‘ _eye cream_ ’

“Great,” Dean nods. “Good job, Sam.”

Emma wriggles in Sam’s arms, chanting _eye cream, eye cream_ over and over again.

“On top of an impending sugar rush, now we gotta tote around a fuckin’ Avon rep,”  Dean shakes his head, earning him _looks_ from Sam, Jess, and Castiel. Dean scowls back, “Oh what, so now I can’t know what Avon is? Grow the fuck up.”

Castiel snort and gives Dean a smile, which he eventually returns before going to get shoes for both him and Emma.

When Castiel turns back to both Sam and Jessica, Sam’s eyebrows go up on his forehead, his eyes harden. Before he has time to ask Sam what’s wrong, Dean reappears with Emma’s dinosaur sneakers in hand.

“All right baby girl, if I put these on with Uncle Sammy holding you, are you gonna keep your ass-kickers to yourself?”

“Ass-kickers?” Jessica only has to ask once before Emma’s leg swings up and kicks Dean in the arm.

“Hey!” Dean exclaims as Emma giggles and giggles like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

“Here,” Castiel reaches for her, and Sam passes her off.

“This is a regular thing?” he asks as Castiel holds her facing outward, arms propped under her legs.

“Unfortunately,” says Castiel. Dean manages to fasten the shoes to her feet and takes her from Castiel. He balances her on his hip while he grabs his wallet and pats around for his keys.

“Oh,” Castiel reaches into his pocket. “Here.”

He hands off the keys to Dean, but this somehow has caused offense, as Sam just says, “Oh, my _god_.”

“Cool your jets,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Just for that, lady rides shotgun.”

“Ha!” Jess sticks her tongue out at Sam. This doesn’t seem to bother Sam. He just hangs back as the five of them head out to the Impala. Then, as soon as Dean and Jess are far enough ahead, he grabs Castiel by the arm.

“You guys slept together, didn’t you?”

“ _What_?” Castiel snatches his arm back. “What are you talking about?”

“Dude, I don’t _care_ , I just wanna know,” says Sam.

“I think that’s the definition of caring, Sam,” Castiel frowns.

“Cas, c’mon.”

“Sam, we have not slept together. Trust me, you would know if we’d slept together.”

“What, like one of you would have a limp or something?”

Castiel’s only response is to raise an eyebrow and give Sam the most pointed look he can give.

“Man, you look like Gabriel when you do that,” Sam wrinkles his nose. “That’s really unsettling.”

Castiel heaves a sigh and joins Dean, Jessica, and Emma in the car. They take a short trip to Cold Stone –it may not be fancy, but Castiel and Dean are the antithesis of fancy when it comes to food. One of the first things they bonded over was their love for fast food, even if Castiel does presently try to be a little more health conscious.

It’s a nice outing. Jessica is just as nice in person as she is over Skype, and there’s something in the way that Sam smiles when he’s talking to her. He’s so obviously in love, and it makes Castiel glad.

The Winchesters deserve every bit of happiness they can get.

Castiel glances over at Dean. He’s recounting now one of their more entertaining childhood foibles, one that has Jessica in stitches and Sam trying to pretend he’s not still embarrassed. Laughter glints in Dean’s eyes, warming Castiel through the core.

He catches Sam looking at him then, possibly in the exact same way he was looking at Jessica, and he goes back to his ice cream.

Emma knocks out in her car seat on the way home, and while Castiel gets her ready for bed, Dean drags the crib out into the front room.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” asks Sam.

“You two can’t fit on the couch,” Dean replies. “And god knows you don’t need Miss Thing bawling at you if she wakes up in the middle of the night, so you guys can have my bed for the night. I changed my sheets and everything, I swear.”  

“That’s very sweet of you, Dean,” Jessica smiles.

“And where are you gonna sleep?”

Castiel can hear the implications dripping off of every word, but Dean doesn’t take the bait.

“On the couch,” Dean shrugs. “I’ve passed out on this ol’ gal plenty of times. We’re old friends.”

Sam snorts, glancing momentarily at Castiel before he nods, “Okay. As long as everyone’s all squared away.”

It’s an early night for everyone. Sam and Jessica turn in not long after Emma goes down, and while Dean sets up the couch for himself, Castiel takes Archie downstairs to pee and poop before they head to bed.

Dean is in the bathroom when Castiel and Archie return. The lights in the living room are out, Emma is sleeping in her crib; for the first time in a long time, the whole apartment feels still.

Exhaustion hits, and Castiel finds he’s barely able to make it back into his room before he’s ready to pass out. He steps clumsily into his sleep pants and doesn’t even bother changing his shirt before he flops down face-first onto his bed.

A few minutes pass, he thinks, and then the door opens.

“Cas?” Dean whispers. “Can I come in?”

Castiel rolls over onto his back and pats the bed beside him. Dean shuts the door, but instead of crawling onto the bed, he crawls on top of Cas. He watches Dean’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and then takes a breath. He asks, “Is this okay?”

“Of course,” Castiel runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Actually, I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean slides off of him. “Sorry.”

Castiel pulls him back in, adjusting until they’re snug against one another. He kisses the center of Dean’s forehead and down his nose, over his cheeks and then lands on his lips. Dean lets out a soft noise of satisfaction, as though he’s been waiting for nothing else all day.

“I guess we’re doing this, huh?” asks Dean.

“It depends on what you mean by ‘this’,” Castiel stifles a yawn. His eyelids get heavier by the second, but he keeps them open for as long as he can.

“Cas,” Dean catches the yawn and settles further into the pillows. “I like guys.”

Castiel chuckles at that, “No kidding.”

“’think’m,” Dean yawns again. “Pansexual.”

Castiel’s heart thuds hard, giving him a momentary spike of wakefulness.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back, close to Dean’s lips. Dean nuzzles closer to him and presses their mouths together. Castiel melts into the moment, bringing his hand up to rest on Dean’s hip. He strokes the skin just above Dean’s pajama pants, tracing the backs of his knuckles over the tiny swell of his stomach.

Dean’s hands are a little more hesitant, like he doesn’t know where to touch. He finally settles on Castiel’s waist, rooting his fingers into his skin. They shift, and Castiel settles on top of Dean, rolls their hips together and sighs at the feeling of finally, _finally_ , having this.

Having Dean.

Castiel kisses every bit of skin his lips can reach—he wants to know every single part of Dean, where his hot spots are, what makes him tick, so that he can take him apart and build him back up again. He closes his lips over the pulse in Dean’s neck, and Dean lets out a soft noise that could bring Castiel to his knees. _God_ , what he’d do to this man on his knees.

Castiel continues, kisses over his jaw, nuzzles the musky skin where his neck meets his shoulder, and falls deeply,

                                                                                                                                                                                                           totally,

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         head-over-heels,

 _asleep_.

* * *

There are a lot of questionable things Dean has done in his life, but falling asleep  _right_ as he’s about to get some dick has got to be the most idiotic. Whether he or Cas sacked out first is still to be determined; all he knows is that he wakes up with a raging case of morning wood and Cas wrapped around him like an octopus with no concept of personal space.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean grumbles.

“Whazzat?” Cas mutters into Dean’s chest.

“We fell asleep.”

Dean sits up, earning him a long, agonized groan as Castiel falls to the side. The rest of their current situation comes back to him: Emma is in the living room, Sam and Jess are asleep in his bed across the way.

Cas has shifted to hug his pillow to his chest, preoccupied with nothing but falling back asleep, until Dean notices:

The alarm clock on Cas’ side of the bed reads 9:14 am.

It’s not until this moment that Dean realizes just how quiet it is, and panic fills his chest. He hops over Cas, muttering a quick apology when Cas lets out an indignant whine, and darts out into the front room. Emma’s not in her crib, and with a quick check to his room determines that Sam and Jess are gone too.

There’s a bright yellow post-it stuck to the front door.

In Sam’s neat handwriting, he reads,

_Took Emma to breakfast with us. Taking her to the park after. Will probably be back around noon._

Dean’s heart beats hard, hit with the realization that he’s alone.

He’s alone with Cas.

He hears a door creak and then the familiar foot falls of Cas padding carefully out into the front room.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “Where is everyone?”

Dean’s only response is to turn and yank Cas into an overzealous, bruising kiss. He can’t wait anymore. If they wait, they’ll get interrupted again, and if that happens Dean may actually have a stroke.

Cas pulls back first, cupping Dean’s face in his hands and resting their foreheads together.

“We should talk,” he says.

“We should fuck,” Dean returns, and recaptures Cas’ lips in his.

Cas is hard and warm against him, all angles and sinewy muscles hiding out, waiting to be explored. Dean pulls Cas’ hips against his, his erection rapidly coming back to life.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Cas’ breath hitches as Dean kisses his jaw, his neck, as his hands slip into his pajama pants and grab two handfuls of that perfect ass.

He is not wearing underwear.

Dean wants to tease, wants to pull back and give Cas a devious smile and ask, ‘ _You always go commando?_ ’ but that’s not what happens. His ape brain hauls into overdrive and he herds Cas to the nearest available surface.

“Shit,” Cas is only barely able to say before his calves hit the couch and he stumbles back. Limbs sprawled out, hair standing on end, he looks good enough to fall into right there.

Dean swings his legs over Cas’ and straddles him, grinding his hard-on into his thigh. In a blink, Cas’ hands are on him, fingers dipping under his waistband and teasing over his hips, over the trail of hair that leads down to his cock.

He gasps as Cas’ hand wraps around him, lets a quaking breath escape as he tests out a stroke. Big hands, he manages to notice, feel just as nice as their smaller counterparts.

He ruts up into Cas’ hand and tries very, very hard to keep himself under control.

“Okay?” Cas asks.

“You’ve got your hand on my dick, no I’m not okay,” Dean screws his eyes shut. “ _Fuck_ , that feels so good.”

It’s just a hand, for Christ’s sake. Sure, it’s great when you’re thirteen and you’ve never done anything else, but hands lose their luster after a while. Maybe it’s just Cas—Cas could do anything to him and Dean would think it’s the greatest thing on the planet.

Cas pulls him in for another kiss and then mutters against his lips, “Lube.”

He points under the couch.

Dean feels a giant grin break out on his face and he pulls away. Away from Castiel’s hand, sure, but they’re going to be balls deep in something else very soon. Dean slides off of the couch and roots around underneath, where he finds every crayon Emma has ever lost, a couple of candy wrappers, and, bingo, there’s a box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

“How often do you use this?” asks Dean.

“Often enough,” Cas explains, though he doesn’t go any further. That’s okay, because Cas is tenting his pajama pants and it’s making Dean’s mouth water.  Cas catches on, and flashes Dean a grin before he— _fuck_ —pulls his pants off.

Cas’ cock is thick and flushed, his balls rest heavy against the couch cushions. Dean can’t quite catch his breath, it’s just… it never occurred to him that he might want to touch a dick, let alone put one in his mouth.

“If you don’t touch me, I’ll do it myself,” Cas warns, voice sharp with desperation. Dean swallows a laugh and reaches up, running the back of his finger over the underside of Cas’ erection.

He isn’t circumcised.

“s’it feel weird?” asks Dean, and specifies, “Your foreskin.”

“I don’t know,” Cas shrugs. He looks like he might say something else, but Dean doesn’t let him get far. He takes Cas in his hand and strokes, and gets this inexplicable swell in his chest when Cas lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Okay, I can’t wait anymore,” Cas dictates after a few more languid pumps of Dean’s fist. “Hand me the lube, I’ll get myself ready.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, “I mean, I wanna do it, if that’s cool with you.”

“You want to be on the bottom?” Cas cocks his head.

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I wanna get you ready. I mean, I wanna do that too, but uh,” he swallows hard. “Shit, I don’t even know if you’re a top or a bottom or—“

Cas cuts Dean off with a kiss, then rests their foreheads together, “It’s okay, I like both. I just want be with you, Dean.”

That should not make Dean’s throat shut up, but it does. So, in lieu of responding he yanks Cas’ hips forward and cracks open the bottle of lube. He has to keep reminding himself that he’s done this before, that he knows what he’s doing, more or less, and that even if he doesn’t, this is _Cas_. He knows Cas isn’t going to get up and leave if he does something wrong.

Dean wets his lips and slides a slippery digit between Cas’ cheeks. It doesn’t take long to determine that fingering a guy is a lot different than fingering a girl. Girls get wet, even open up for you if you do your job right; with guys, you have to keep lubing up and lubing up, and there’s no amount of foreplay you can do to make a dude just _open up_.

Still, Cas keens as Dean’s fingers work inside him, his cock leaking small pulses of precome onto his shirt. Again, it’s one of those things Dean never thought he’d find erotic, and here he is, throat dry as he watches Cas come undone under his fingers.

“De-Dean,” Cas stammers. “Turn your fingers—yeah, like that. And then bend— _fuck_. Yes, that’s good. _Right there_.”

“Christ, man,” Dean laughs. “You shooting a fuckin’ porno in here or something?”

“Shut up,” Cas frowns.

“Are you blushing?” Dean grins and laughs when Cas covers his face with his hands. “You _are_. No one’s ever told you that you moan like a porn star?”

“Shut _up,”_ Cas nudges him with his leg.

“Make me,” Dean sticks out his tongue.

Cas accepts this challenge. As soon as Dean removes his fingers, Cas grips him by the arm and hoists him up onto the couch. He yanks Dean’s pants off without preamble, eyes going dark at the way Dean’s erection bounces free.

“You have a nice cock,” Cas looks up at him, over the tops of his glasses again, and Dean lets out a shuttering breath. He closes his lips over the head of Dean’s erection and sucks his way down. Dean smacks his hand into the couch cushions, grabs a handful and tries to hang on as Cas gives a few bobs of his head.

Goddamn, his tongue is fucking _magic_.

Dean whines when Cas pulls back, but he hears the distinct crinkling and rustling of a condom wrapper. Cas dictates, “Sit up,” and Dean complies. His breath catches in his throat when Cas rolls the condom over him, all the while looking him directly in the eye.

Dean feels like he should say something, but Cas doesn’t give him the chance before he grabs Dean by the base and sinks down onto him. He’s got Cas full on his lap now, ass sheathed around his cock, arms wrapped around his neck, smiling bigger than Dean has ever seen before.

“You good?” Dean asks.

“Perfect,” Cas pulls him into another kiss. He rolls his hips and Dean’s head lolls back against the back of the couch. “Are you all right?” Cas asks then.

Apparently, Dean’s body thinks the appropriate reaction to this question, this whole situation, is to start laughing uncontrollably.

“Dean?” Cas stops, looking at him very solemnly.

“Dude, don’t stop,” Dean manages through his laughter, though the pleasured groans that fight to be heard. “I’m good. I’m so fucking good, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”

Cas smiles and starts moving again, catching a little bit of Dean’s hysteria and letting out a few peals of laughter himself. Gradually it dissolves into huffing and puffing, moaning and groaning as they pick up the pace.

Cas’ glasses slip off his nose and fall in between their still clothed torsos, so Dean grabs them and tosses them to the other end of the couch. Cas looks fucking gorgeous like this, flushed cheeks, a sheen of sweat on his face, lips so swollen and thoroughly kissed.

Dean swallows hard and takes Cas in his hand again, stroking in time with their thrusts. Cas lets out this unholy whine and buries his fingers in Dean’s hair. He grips tight, and Dean feels a low pull in his belly.

“’m close,” Dean whispers.

“Me too,” Cas nods. “Come for me?”

Whatever the hell it is about that, it does it for Dean. He grabs Cas’ hips and fucks up into him, coming on the end of a hoarse, rib-rattling groan. Cas strokes his hair all the way through it, kisses his face and tells him nice things.

It only takes another few flicks of Dean’s wrist and soon Cas is coming in long, sticky spurts of white all over the both of them.

And like that, it’s over.

Dean pants, trying to catch his breath and gather his bearings all at once.

He just fucked his best friend, the guy who knows every last sordid detail about him, the guy he’s known now for longer than he hasn’t, and now it’s over. Reality settles back in on Dean and he starts to rapidly nose dive out of his high. He rests his head against the back of the couch and blinks up at the ceiling.

Lips press into his throat, over his pulse points and down to his collarbone.

“Dean?” Cas asks between kisses. “Dean, are you all right?”

Dean looks back at him, over the messes on their shirts and his hand, and lets out a laugh.

“I don’t know what the fuck I am, man,” he admits. “I kinda like it, though.”

“ _Kinda_?” Cas teases back.

Dean checks the clock under the TV, “We got a couple of hours to do a few more trial runs, huh? Just to make sure.”

“Right,” Cas nods back. “All in the name of science.”

Dean laughs and brings Cas back down into a kiss.

And in that moment, for once in his life, everything in Dean Winchester’s world seems to fall exactly into place.

* * *

“Hey-o, incoming.”

Like he’s sauntered right out of one of Castiel’s wet dreams, a very naked, spent Dean flops down on his bed, two bottles of Gatorade in his hands. He hands one to Castiel, unscrews the cap on his and raises it in a toast.

“You’re one hell of a lay, Cas, I’ll give you that,” Dean tips back a long few gulps. He looks at Cas, “Dude, drink up. You’ll get dehydrated.”

“Maybe later,” Castiel sits up and stretches the kinks out of his back.

“I just took half your bodily fluids down my fuckin’ throat, you better drink that,” Dean warns. Castiel gives him a frown before he opens his Gatorade and takes a big gulp.

“Happy?” he asks then. Dean grins back, eyelids heavy and movements lazy.

“Yep,” he nods and shuts his eyes, and Castiel can’t help but take in the sight. He’s been so concerned with learning the planes, peaks, and valleys of Dean’s body that he forgot to take in the aesthetics of the man he’s been lusting after for so long.

He has these gorgeous, colorful tattoos on his arms and one right over the center of his heart, an angel in memory of his mom.

So maybe he has a thing for guys with mommy baggage and nice body art. Nobody’s perfect.

“Dude, don’t eyeball my gut,” Dean says. He grabs the pillow from behind Cas and covers his body with it.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks.

“’m too lazy to get dressed,” Dean shifts, shutting his eyes again. “And I checked, we got half an hour to catch a power nap before those babynapping hippies get back.”

Castiel frowns and pulls the pillow away from Dean.

“Hey!”

“Why do you want to get dressed?” he asks. “I happen to think naked is a very good look on you.”

Dean scoffs and smacks the small protrusion of fat on his belly, “Yeah, right.”

Castiel slaps Dean’s hand away from his stomach and nuzzles the skin just below his belly button.

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” Dean’s voice goes high, uncomfortable.

“I have it on very good authority that you’re quite handsome,” Cas kisses the soft flesh on his hips, “Exactly how you are.”

“Yeah, you shoulda seen me at my fighting weight, man,” Dean shifts. “Bein’ a dad’s got me packin’ it on lately.”

“Probably because you’re eating better,” Cas hums, kissing up under his ribs, over his chest.

“Whatever you say,” Dean chuckles. “The paunch is not what gets a gal married off these days. Thank god I’ve at least got nice tits.”

“The nicest,” Castiel agrees with a grin. “But Dean, your body isn’t what makes you beautiful, although it is a very lovely body.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean lets out a laugh, like it’s the biggest crock of shit he’s ever heard.

“You’re beautiful, Dean,” Castiel rests his head on Dean’s solid tummy. “You. Everything that you are is beautiful. Your body is just what holds it all in one place.”

He punctuates it with a kiss to Dean’s sternum and a smile.

Dean’s tongue darts out over his lips and his hand falls into Castiel’s hair. He grudgingly accepts with a, “Thanks, Cas.”

“I’m not kidding, Dean,” Castiel settles further into him. “You’re a beautiful soul. I’ve always thought that about you.”

Dean swallows and sighs up at the ceiling.

“You too, Cas,” he clears his throat. “Not many guys would hang around and help a friend raise a baby.”

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel shrugs. “It didn’t occur to me not to help.”

Dean looks back down at him, something behind those soft green eyes, “You love me? Like, love-love?”

“Well, not that I believe sex is at all contingent upon love or types of love felt, I would say that my love isn’t so much philia, as I once thought, or eros, which I’ve also thought—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean asks.

“I love you. All of you. Every single part of who you are, Dean, I love it all.”

Dean swallows hard again and Castiel suddenly wonders if he’s perhaps said too much. He moves to sit up, but Dean rolls them over and leans down for another kiss. Castiel could lose himself in just kissing Dean, to be perfectly honest, though he is giddy at the thought that he has let him have so much more.

“Does, uh,” Dean rests their foreheads together. “Does this mean we’re boyfriends?”

“Mm,” Castiel wrinkles his nose. “While I do agree this means we’re together, I’d prefer a term that doesn’t make me feel like I’m in middle school again.”

“Lovers?” Dean suggests, and laughs when Castiel pinches his side.

“We _are_ co-parents,” Castiel points out then.

“Parents, Pop rocks,” Dean corrects him with a grin. “If I can say that we live together, then you can say we’re parents. She’s ours, man, together. She’s got both of us, I’ve got both of you, and you’ve got the both of us. That’s pretty awesome.”

Castiel smiles back, “Yes it is.”

Dean gathers Cas in his thick arms and holds him tight. It’s one of those moments that’s just so perfect that Castiel can’t quite believe it’s actually happening.

A short while passes. Neither Dean nor Castiel speaks, just communicate through soft touches of skin and smiles and kisses. By the time Castiel hears the front door open, he’s nearly fast asleep on Dean’s chest.

“Dean?” Sam calls. “Cas, we’re back.”

“Are you decent?” asks Jess, only to be shushed by Sam.

“Ah, shit,” Dean grunts. “C’mon, gotta get dressed.”

He gives Castiel a light pat on the ass, and then stops to do it again, entranced.

“What are you doing?” Castiel laughs.

“It bounces back so perfectly,” says Dean, and then he concludes, “You’ve got a nice ass.”

Castiel hums and drapes himself over Dean, smiling, “I like to think so.”

Dean snorts and sits up, rolling Castiel off of him so that he can redress himself in his clothes from the night before. Castiel does the same, and though they’re both relatively put together it has to be obvious. Neither of them can wipe the smiles from their faces when they emerge from Castiel’s bedroom.

Emma runs excitedly to Dean, presumably to show off the new-looking stuffed giraffe in her arms. Dean swoops her up into his arms and gives her a great big kiss on the cheek.

“Did you have fun with Uncle Sam and Auntie Jess?”

“Yah,” Emma nods. “I go’giraffe.”

She holds the poor thing up by its neck and dangles it in front of Dean’s face.

“I see that,” Dean smiles.

“What about you guys?” asks Jess. “Did you have a nice morning?”

“Pretty fuckin’ amazing morning,” Dean looks over at Cas, smiling.

Castiel nods, “She got a giraffe, he got some a-s-s, I got some d-i-c-k… a banner morning for the Winchester-Novak family, if I do say so myself.”

Sam pumps both fists high in the air above his head, victorious.

“All right, all right, you don’t need to throw a fuckin’ parade,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Too bad, already ordered the marching band,” Jess shrugs.

“So, you guys are boyfriends now, right?” Sam asks, eyes alight with that youthful hope that is so quintessentially Sam.

Dean looks over at Castiel and asks, “Partners?”

“I prefer to think of you as my baby daddy, but,” Castiel nods. “Partners does sound more socially acceptable.”

Dean lets out a boisterous laugh, while Jessica tries to hide hers a little more politely and Sam simply groans, undoubtedly questioning the life decisions that have led him to this point.

Theirs may be a ragtag little family, but Castiel wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
